


Sparks

by arcadian_dream



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-30
Updated: 2009-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_dream/pseuds/arcadian_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some years after the war, a bored and frustrated Draco encounters a well travelled, and worldly Luna at a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparks

Resting his elbows on the table at which he sat, Draco shifted in his seat. He lifted a cigarette to his lips, inhaling the acrid fumes as he gazed about the bar in the dim light. Curls of smoke escaping from the corner of his mouth, he surveyed the scene before him: witches and wizards – affluent, attractive and, Draco thought, undoubtedly dull – chatted to one another, filling the room with lively laughter and flirtatious smiles.

The touch of a hand to an arm: a fleeting glance; a tongue flickering over full, glossy lips.

It was nauseating.

He flicked the end of his cigarette, ash spilling into the tray. He should leave. He knew that much. But he couldn't bear to get up; he couldn't bear to return to Pansy on this particular evening. Certainly, he was not bound to do so – what they shared was undefined and impermanent – a casual shag every now and then.

But lately, he thought, it had been more "now" than "then".

And he was bored with it, and by it: it was too comfortable, too easy.

He needed something else. Something new.

A spark.

Sighing, Draco turned the cigarette packet over in his hands.

"One more," he muttered to himself as he plucked one out from among its smoky brethren. Lighting it with the tip of his wand, he flung the packet halfway across the table as he inhaled.

It was then – at the very moment tendrils of smoke were winding their way into his body, thin fingers grasping at the nothingness within – that Draco noticed a flickering by the bar.

The dirty blonde strands of hair were suddenly illuminated by what little lighting remained in the room, conveying an ethereal golden sheen in a sea numbing, grey mediocrity.

Draco straightened up suddenly, cocking his head to one side. He chewed his bottom lip as his half-smoked cigarette hung limply from his slightly twisting mouth. He stubbed it out and pushed his stool back, collected his remaining cigarettes, and rose from the table with a newfound sense of purpose.

As he wove his way through the clusters of patrons, Draco watched the woman's movements: slow, and gentle, but possessing a deliberate air. She knew exactly what it was that she was doing. True, she was a tad … _meatier_ than Draco would have liked ("Comely", his father would have said with an air of knowing condescension), but she exuded something that no one else in the room at that moment did.

And something that Draco, inexplicably, desired: more than that, it was something that he needed.

"Cigarette?" Draco asked coolly as he sidled up to the bar, and next to the blonde.

"Oh. Hello Draco," she said, inclining her head in his direction.

"Luna?" Draco muttered, a little taken aback.

"Yes," Luna smiled, taking the proffered cigarette, "Thank you."

"Never pegged you for a smoker," Draco said, unsure as to how he should proceed. He did not know whether to pursue the plan that still lay, half-formed, in his mind, or to abandon his newly acquired mission. Instead, he waited.

"Nor you," Luna said as she lit the end and inhaled, "Does your mummy know, I wonder?" Luna looked sideways at Draco, through long lashes.

She smirked. Not cruelly, Draco noted, but playfully: _teasing._

He suppressed the desire to storm away at the unexpected slight – playful though it was - and, swallowing hard, pushed it down into what was, essentially, the soles of his much-too-expensive-but-undoubtedly-worth-every-galleon dragon-hide shoes.

He hoped this act of repression would suffice for the remainder of the evening. Draco was – as much as he hated to admit it (it was _Luna-fucking-Lovegood_, for Chrissakes) – intrigued. It had been far too long since a woman had teased him in such a manner, defiant.

"No, she doesn't know. My _mummy_, as you say, does not know," he said, blowing a stream of smoke in Luna's direction as he spoke.

Luna smiled: pink lips pressed, flush, against one another.

"No. I imagine there are a multitude of things your mummy doesn't know about you. She doesn't know, for example, that you're here talking to me."

"Obviously," Draco said.

"And she doesn't know," Luna continued as she leaned toward Draco, "What it is that you will get up to later tonight, either … does she?"

Her voice was barely more than a whisper; her breath was warm and tantalisingly close to Draco's skin: it prickled at the possibility of contact.

"No, I don't suppose she does," he answered, uncertain.

"I wonder," Luna said airily, as though she were talking about something as trivial and mundane as the weather, "Do _you_ even know, Draco?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I think I might have an idea."

"Do you? And what might that be, exactly?"

Draco butted his cigarette out before reaching out to Luna and, extracting it from between her fingertips, repeating the action. He brushed his clean-shaven cheek against the smooth exterior of hers: _"Let me show you."_

Draco slipped his long fingers over Luna's palm, clasping her hand to his own. She slid, rather more gracefully than he had anticipated, from her seat at the bar. He strode, the same sense of purpose re-awakened, through the crowd: it had, since his arrival, diminished or perhaps it merely appeared to have done so as people began to pair off in the early hours of the morning.

Luna allowed herself to be led toward the men's bathroom. Draco paused at the door, looking back at his unlikely companion. She responded shyly, biting her lip and glancing at the floor. Draco tugged her arm, urging her to follow.

Pushing the door open, Draco and Luna entered the bathroom; Draco ensuring that they were alone. As he peered into the empty cubicles, he felt two hands grasping firmly at his waist. He looked over his shoulder and, unable to conceal his surprise, his mouth fell open. Luna was pressed, hard, up against him, her breasts grazing his back, as, with lips parted, she slid her tongue along the length of his neck.

Draco moaned, and leaned back against her. He turned to face her. Placing his hands firmly on her buttocks, he pulled her to him, pressing his pelvis to hers.

_"I don't think so,"_ Luna breathed as Draco began to grind against her. Suddenly, she pushed him away, the force of her action sending him crashing against the cubicle door. Luna moved hurriedly toward Draco, kissing him: lips and tongues and teeth clashed in a frenzy of surging lust.

Draco raised his hands, intending to place them on Luna's back, but she would not allow him to do so: gripping his hands, she forced them up above his head, pinning him against the door with a strength that belied her appearance and disposition.

_"Fuck,"_ Draco groaned, writhing against the door and Luna's body.   
"If you're lucky," Luna said. She kissed him again and, as their bodies moved together, Luna loosened her hold on Draco's hands.

She broke the kiss suddenly, but did not release Draco's tongue, sucking intensely on the muscle as their mouths parted. One hand still on his wrist, Luna guided Draco's fingers over her stomach while hitching up her skirt with her free hand. She pressed his hand between her thighs. Draco needed no further invitation and parted Luna's lips with his index finger, caressing the slick flesh.

Taking his hand in hers once more, Luna urged Draco deeper: he slipped his fingers inside, thrusting in and out as Luna ground against him. Draco watched the contortions of Luna's face as she approached climax. Unable to control his desire any longer, Draco lost his focus and his fingers fell still inside Luna as he bucked fiercely against her.

Shuddering, he came as he watched Luna do the same, her throbbing muscles squeezing and constricting his fingers with incredible force. Panting, the two fell against one another, and against the cubicle door.

Draco extricated his fingers from between Luna's legs as she fixed her skirt so that it was no longer hitched up around her waist.

"So," Draco croaked as a mischievous smile crossed his lips, "D'you want to come back to mine?"

Luna could only offer an exhausted smile, as the stale air crackled with sparks.


End file.
